Disclaimer: I only own Emily.

Warning: Rated Mature, for Abuse and Adult Content

Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice.

Setting: Before Red Canyon and the Death of Mac


There was so much blood. How could there be so much blood? And more, how was she still alive? The last question rang in her head, synchronized with her heartbeat and the ringing that refused to cease. Her head lolled to one side as she stared into the darkness and fought to clear her vision. As her eyes shifted lazily with the slowness of someone who had over-imbibed and how fought to keep their stomach contents, the blurry vision worsened. All knowledge of time and the moments leading up to her possible death, had failed to register. The blood crusted on her clothing, ran off of her flesh and soaked into the fabric beneath her. No mortal person should bleed this much and still survive. Over several portions of her small frame, there were bruises, cuts, and fractures. They screamed at her as she tried to move and pain shot through her ribs as she attempted to inhale. This man was the devil. Not even she could create a character so cruel or evil. He was a sadist and a rapist and he took the utmost pleasure in hurting her. The sound of her screams had to be music to his ears because he loved to cause her pain.

The horrors that had befallen her, could not be described by even the best writers. Even the great Poe would shudder to hear the events of her last few moments, whispered to his grave. This was supposed to be her vacation, her chance to get away from the chaotic orchestra of the city. But everything had gone horribly wrong. She should never have come to this place. There was no peace out here and no hope of ever leaving. She knew that now, but now that she thought about it, she knew it before she ever ended up in the cold darkness. It had drifted softly over her like a blanket of snow, the hopeless feeling, it was subtle at first and now that she was here, it smacked her hard like a baseball bat to the back of her skull. Another thing became evident to her (as she lay in the dark, fighting to stay awake) she should have left when she encountered him. All of that had passed now, there was no going back and undoing anything. Those moments crawled through her memory, tantalizingly slow, as if to mock her. They laughed at her in the darkness, indulging in her pain and breathing in her misery. What cruel gods had decided this would be her fate?

Emily felt her stomach lurch as her body throbbed with never-ending pain and every beat of her heart pumped more blood from her open wounds. It was impossible (at this point) to tell what hurt worse, her body as a whole, or her lower regions where he had violated her over and over again. The pain there spread from her most delicate folds up into her lower womb. She was sure there was blood still trickling there from when he took her without her wanting. That assault had left her with barely anything to cover her lower regions and protect them from any further pain. Her jeans hung around her legs in a tattered, bloody mess and her white cotton panties were long ripped from her body. How many times had he done that to her? Emily was sure she had blacked out at least once from the pain and trauma. If there was a god in the heavens, he had thrown a blind eye to Caineville and the demons that inhabited its lands. As she thought about it, the memory of his hot breath in her ear and the feeling of him pounding into her, hard enough to make her hit her head on the stone wall, came flooding back to her. Little bits and pieces of memory came back to her in fragments. The feel of him, his rough hands on her delicate flesh, his panting as he tore her most feminine parts and the sickening things he said. She shuddered in pain and disgust before she fought to push the memories away.

Emily knew now that she had to get out of this cave and out of Caineville. There would be no one coming to rescue her because no one knew she was here. The only people that even knew about this place, were the locals and they would most likely deny that she had ever been here. Everyone in this area seemed just as twisted and evil. From the young sheriff, to the Mexican bartender at the Luna Mesa, they would cover for him, she was sure of it. The moment she walked into that little shack, she knew there was something wrong with them. To be honest, the moment she had crossed into this place, she could feel her body jolt with fear, it had been trying to tell her something. And now she would pay for not listening to it. No, no one would be looking for her because as far as her publisher knew, she was sitting at a desk in her rental house, working on her next book. Or relaxing in a lawn chair on some large deck. How she wished that was the truth. Unfortunately, the truth was much dirtier and uglier than that. It had a face and a name, it had unruly hands that touched hard and it had a sexual appetite that refused to be sated.

When she had first come here, Emily had not been a survivor or a fighter. At this very moment, she knew that if she did not mold into one, she would not make it out of this place alive. Even though she was weak with blood loss, sick with pain and terrified of him, she knew that she had to get out of here one way or another. If she had to kill him to do so, she needed to take the opportunity when it came her way. To get out of here alive, she could not hesitate. Not even if it meant she would have to kill one of the other two. Right now she was screaming at herself mentally to get up off the dirty mattress and make it out of the cave, before he returned. He would return, that much was absolute. When he would return was the question. However, she did not care just so long as she was long gone when he did. There it was, the thought of him, it brought the memories back. Emily could still smell him on her clothes, even over the powerful smell of chemicals and the sweet smell of something else that permeated the cave. That was it, the last memory motivated her to try and move again.

With weak, trembling muscles, she managed to roll to one side on the blood crusted mattress. It groaned with the sound of springs that were long past their expiration date. The motion of her movement caused more pain to shoot through her body, making her open wounds throb and her lungs jolt. This position put more pressure on them and made breathing even harder than it had before. She knew they had to be fractured from the many steel-toed boot kicks they had received when she was 'disobedient'. Or just because he felt that she needed a reminder of just who she was dealing with. Either way, they were fractured. The movement also caused her vision to blur again and she fought to keep from vomiting. Emily could taste blood in her mouth, which did not surprise her or help her nausea any and it mixed with the bit of bile that had escaped from her stomach and throat. If she knew it would not land on her shoulder, she might have to spit it out but she feared that the sight of it would make her finally lose control of her stomach. In the hope that it would relax her gag muscles, she inhaled slowly through her nose, meaning to exhale through her mouth but she caught the full scent of the chemicals around her and that was it. Emily barely managed to pull her head over the edge of the bed, before blood and bile came rushing out of her mouth on to the mud beside her.

It was a few minutes before the puking stopped and she could breathe again. Emily spit as much of the taste from her mouth as she could before she rolled onto her back again and just lay there. The motion of her diaphragm tightening and her body shuddering as she vomited, caused more pain. She felt her skin flush hot and then cold before her body finally settled back to just throbbing with pain. For a moment her vision blurred again but she closed her eyes tight and forced it to clear. When it did, she pushed herself up with what little strength she had left. Even though she had an idea of how badly injured she was, she still wanted to inspect some of her wounds. So, with shaky hands, she brought her fingers lightly to her lips and touched the broken, chapped, bruised skin that was her bottom lip. Even the light pressure of her fingers on her it made her wince with pain. Then she began to touch the rest of her face, finding nearly all of it to be bruised and tender. On one side of her face, she felt a long crusted trail of dried blood, which trailed all the way up to the side of her head. That was where she had said 'No' to him and he retaliated with a swift smack of his fist. The arm that was supporting her weight, was starting to shake and threatening to collapse. She was so weak that without both limbs for support, she could not even sit upright.

Emily glanced down at her bloody, shredded jeans and finally understood why she was so weak. Now she knew why there was so much blood on the mattress and why the sand around it had turned to mud. On her left thigh was a large gash that was still bleeding, rather profusely. There was nothing in this cave, clean enough for her to tie it off and partially stop the bleeding. She would have to get out of this place and get help or she would probably bleed to death. That gash had to be where he had nicked her with the hunting knife, when he was making mincemeat of her clothes. He was in such a hurry to satisfy himself, that he probably did not realize or care that he had cut here so deep. Without warning, her left arm finally gave out under the pressure of holding her up and she landed hard on the mattress, shooting more pain through her like a bolt of electricity. A single tear slipped down her cheek and dropped onto the mattress beneath her. Every bit of her hurt and her body was so weak from blood loss, she was sure she could not make it out of this cave. She was certain that he would return before she even managed to get to her feet. But she knew that she had no choice. No matter how weak she was or how much blood she had lost, and no matter how hopeless she felt, she had to get up, she had to get out.

With everything she had, she pushed herself back up into a seated position and tried to scoot to the edge of the mattress. This movement caused the large gash in her leg to stretch and soak the denim fabric, hanging off her legs, with more blood. For a moment, her body swayed, her vision blurred and her body threatened to slide back into unconsciousness. The pain in her leg felt as if someone was digging fish hooks into it, trying to rip the muscles from it. Emily gritted her teeth and hissed in pain, fighting against what her body wanted. As quick as her anatomy would allow, she put both hands on the cold cave floor before pulling her knees behind her. In this position, she was vulnerable to attack, but without it, she would have no chance to get to her feet. It also caused more pressure on the already broken parts of her, but if she gave into her agony and her weakness, she would forever be his toy. At least until he decided he was done with her.

Emily felt pain shoot down through her leg as she attempted to stand. Her entire body shook in protest, her muscles were weak with exhaustion and blood loss, so she fell hard onto the cave floor. A yelp escaped her lips as she connected with the cold, stone ground. As she lay there, trying to convince herself to get up, she felt the overwhelming urge to just give in, overtaking her like a strong wave. She was so tired and she hurt so much, maybe if she just let him do whatever he wanted, maybe he would not hurt her. Emily was lying to herself now, in a pathetic attempt to find comfort in the fires of hell. But she knew that no matter what she did, he would hurt her because he indulged in her torture. She knew she would not be blessed with death, not unless he was the one to kill her and that he would return and then...she shuddered. That was not a feeling she wished to relive, but the thought of it was enough to motivate her. The fragments of memory still piercing her mind were enough to force her to find strength, hidden in some part of her and to push her body to obey her.

The bits and pieces of her memory kept flashing in and out of her mind, like bolts of lightning. When she had tried to escape his grasp and he lost his temper and backhanded her across the face. Then when she had kicked him in the groin as he was pulling her from the bed of the truck and he drug her out of it before he threw her on the Utah dirt and kicked her in the ribs several times. Even now she could feel his dirty, steel toed, work boot, slam into her delicate flesh, bruising her skin and fracturing her ribs. Finally, when he had gotten her into the cave and dropped her onto the mattress and the all too vivid events of her rape. How he had slashed at her jeans and ripped at her panties. That feeling of him forcefully penetrating her over and over again as her delicate folds tore from the force. She could still hear herself screaming in pain and feel him arouse even more to the sound of her agony.

As she remembered everything and at the same time, realized that she was too weak to walk, she came to one conclusion. She would do whatever she had to, to get out of this cave. If her body would not cooperate, if it would not obey and allow her to walk, then she would crawl or drag herself out of this hell. Emily turned her body slightly sideways to keep her open wound from touching the ground, even though it caused her lungs to scream in protest and it made it harder to breathe. She pushed the physical sensations from her consciousness so she would not give up halfway through because of the sheer pain she knew this would cause her. Emily dug her nails into the sand coated, rock floor of the cave and began to drag herself along the floor by her already weak and nearly useless arms. Bits of dirt and small pebbles nudged up under her nails, turning them dark brown as she went. Where ever she clawed at the floor, she left little indentations and her wounds leaving a trail of blood as she moved toward her salvation. The small jagged rocks that littered the ground, tore at her body as she pulled herself along. But at this point, they were nothing compared to the rest of her injuries.

For ten agonizing minutes, she grunted, pulled and prayed she would make it out. Then she saw it, a small dot of light in the distance and she knew that it was her escape. She could feel hope creeping into her heart and her body kicked with adrenaline and excitement. That bit of adrenaline was what she would need to keep going. There might be a chance for her to make it out of this alive. Upon seeing the exit, she now realized that she had begun to drag herself along at a bit more aggressive pace. Emily was going to make it, she was going to get out and get help. Then she would be back to take out the monster that had done this to her so that he could no longer do this to anyone. But her hope and excitement was quickly extinguished, as if it had been the glow of a cigarette cherry and someone had stomped it out. Just when she was about to leave the cave, a familiar silhouette passed into the sunlight that was lighting her way. She stopped moving when she realized that the light was partially blocked out. Even before Emily looked up and saw him, she had felt her body spike with fear. She swallowed hard before she finally, slowly looked up at the figure that was almost standing over her. In desperation, even though she knew he was without mercy, she begged and pleaded with him.


Her voice was barely audible. Every syllable of her words caused her breath to shorten and her body to recoil with fear. Emily knew all too well that he would not spare her, that the punishment for escape, this time might actually kill her. If it would, she would welcome the sweet kiss of death. In its embrace, she knew that she would find comfort and peace. There would be no more pain in death. But it was more likely, that he would spare her and make her beg him to kill her. A man with his degree of masochism, would not let her have the relief of passing on. No, he would keep her from death, just a few minutes away from death and bring her back so that he could do it all over again.

The silhouette in the doorway, did finally answer her. But of course, it was not with words. All she received as a reply, was the blunt pain of a steel-toed boot as it connected with her good temple. For a moment her vision wavered and was colored with black and white spots. The world became one large blur of nothing. Emily reached out desperately for anything, her hand stretching weakly toward the blurring, fading blue Utah sky, as if she was begging whatever got was there, to spare her this torment. From god, there was no answer. Then everything faded to black. Even in her unconscious mind, she knew that if she did regain consciousness, and she knew that she would never leave this place because he would make sure of that.